


You Can Look but You Better Not Touch

by outoftheashes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anal Virgin Dean Winchester, Awkward Boners, Banter, Barebacking, Bickering, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Bunker Era, Clothed Sam Winchester, Clothed Sex, Cursed Dean Winchester, Cursed Object, Cursed Sam Winchester, Curses, Dean Winchester is a Little Shit, Dean Winchester's First Time With a Man, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester First Time Having Sex, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Forced Proximity, Getting Together, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Naked Dean Winchester, Oblivious Sam Winchester, One Shot, POV Sam Winchester, Pining, Pining Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is So Done, Sex Curse, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Teasing, Top Sam Winchester, barely there handjob, but everyone actually wants it, forced bedsharing, just takes sam a bit to get with the program, possible consent issues, possible dubcon, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29576634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/pseuds/outoftheashes
Summary: Sam and Dean stumble into a curse that forces them to stay in contact, or else experience excruciating pain. Sam knows he can figure out how to break it. If only his brother would start taking their predicament seriously.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 29
Kudos: 175
Collections: SPNColdestHits, SPN_Masquerade Fall 2020





	You Can Look but You Better Not Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Eventually, I’m going to rewrite this fic to include a new first scene (or two) that sets up how the boys ended up where they are but for now all you need to know is Dean touched a cursed object then threw it at Sam and soon after neither of the boys could function without touching the other constantly.

“C’mon, the meat man’s gotta eat,” Dean says, squeezing Sam’s thigh.

“Dean, we’ve been over this. You have no idea what _meat man_ means so you should probably stop saying it,” Sam says, lifting his eyes from the dusty pages of the book he’s devouring and focuses on his brother.

“It got you to look at me,” Dean says smugly. “I’d call that a success. And hey, you’ve been obsessed. Just tryin’ to help you out.”

Sam sighs. “Dean, you realize this is bad, right? I’m trying to fix it.”

“Okay but breaks are good, aren’t they? You can’t figure anything out if you’re burning from both ends and there’s no gas in the tank.”

_Why does Dean have to be right?_

Sam _hates_ when Dean’s right, it’s fucking _obnoxious._ “Fine. We can take a short break to eat and… wash up or whatever but then we really should keep going. Gotta dig deeper.”

“Kinda balls deep in it already, aren’t ya?” Dean says. He rubs Sam’s thigh and it’s disturbingly comforting. Almost _tender._ “C’mon, gimme a smile. You know you wanna.”

Sam groans and shoves the book away so hard it skids across the table and falls on the floor with a heavy _thud_. “Literally the opposite of what I wanna do, Dean.”

“Heh. You kinda wanna hit me, right? Teach me a lesson?”

“Just shut up and cook us something.”

* * *

Dean makes them cheese and spinach ravioli with canned fettuccine alfredo sauce and, of course, Sam’s forced to touch him the whole time. Dean’s arms are a no-go, they’re constantly moving. High up on his back is weird and uncomfortable. So, after a while, Sam resigns himself to gripping Dean’s hips. He doesn’t need to see himself in a mirror to know he’s blushing. Dean would have a field day if he could see Sam’s face, he’s sure of it.

“Hey! Earth to Sam! Gotta get the pasta in the strainer so you better hold onto me. If you let go, neither of us is gonna have a fun time and I’ll be forced to kick your ass.”

Sam huffs and grips Dean tighter. “Wasn’t gonna.”

Once the pasta is plated, Dean winks at Sam again. “Let’s skip the table and head back to my bed, huh?”

“Sounds like one of the world’s worst pick-up lines,” Sam mutters but he can’t quite argue. He’d like something softer than a chair to sit on after the day he’s had.

“Heh, you _wish_ it was a pick-up line,” Dean says, a wicked grin on his lips. “Seriously though. Doesn’t dinner in bed sound awesome?”

“Yeah,” Sam grudgingly admits and this time he lets Dean’s immature teasing roll off of him.

They eat on Dean’s bed with their thighs flush together. It could almost be normal save for how close they’re forced to be and how fucking distracted Sam is by Dean’s warmth. When Sam has his fill, he doesn’t take his plate back to the kitchen like a responsible, fully-functioning adult. He just sticks their dishes on the floor to deal with later. Sam’s _done_ with the day and is ready for it to be over.

Dean, of course, touches Sam the whole fucking time Sam’s off Dean’s bed. His hips, his lower back. Dean keeps alternating but no matter where his hands land, they feel like fucking brands on Sam’s skin. _Intimate._ And it really doesn’t help that Dean’s downplaying the whole fucking thing. It can’t be how he feels, he’s gotta secretly be freaked out, gotta be shrugging it all off or shoving it down and has decided that annoying Sam is his best chance at coping.

“Ready for bed?”

Sam makes a face. “Fine, might as well, I guess.”

“‘Kay, you undress first,” Dean says, swatting Sam’s ass.

“Hey!” It’s not fucking fair that Sam can’t jerk away, he’s just gotta stand there and take the entirely unnecessary attention or else risk torturing both of them with excruciating pain. “Don’t do that. And - and I think I’ll stay like this, thanks.”

“Ah, c’mon, Sam. You’re gonna be uncomfortable -”

“You go first,” Sam interrupts and… that really isn’t what he’s supposed to say but whatever.

“Knew you were eager to see the goods,” Dean says and flips Sam around so they’re gazing into each other’s eyes. “Get your hands on me, Sammy.”

How is it that Sam feels vulnerable when Dean’s the one that’s about to undress? “You’re such a dick.” Sam scowls and places his hands carefully on Dean’s waist, sliding under his shirt because Dean seriously needs some payback. “There, happy now?”

“Oh, you want my shirt off first, huh? Interesting choice,” Dean says, razzing Sam and shimmies out of it.

Sam stares at Dean’s bare chest but it’s only for protection. He knows if he keeps looking into Dean’s eyes he’s going to snap. He’s doing them both a favor, preserving as much civility as he can. Ugh, it _is_ a nice chest, though. God, it’s been too long since Sam’s gotten laid -

“C’mon Sammy, it’s no fun if you don’t fight back,” Dean says and flicks his pants open.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Exactly.”

“Ouch, that hurts,” Dean says, mock pouting and Sam gnaws on his lips when Dean drags his jeans down his thighs.

Okay, yeah, when the curse is lifted he needs to find a one-night stand, he absolutely has to have at least one solid night away from his brother and have nothing on his mind but making another person come. Never, not once, has Sam paid any sort of attention to how Dean looks without clothes and now - well, he notices far too much.

“Hurry up,” Sam growls.

“Bossy little bitch,” Dean says and what the fuck is with that tone? That husk in Dean’s voice is just… not okay. _The curse, it’s the curse._ “Don’t freak out, okay, Sammy?”

Sam does the opposite of what Dean wants, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. It’s how he’s wired, it’s in his DNA. He’s never liked being told what to do, even when the person has the best intentions. “Uh, Dean -”

“Shh!” Dean presses a finger against Sam’s lips and Sam jerks his head to the side, trying to escape the dirty thrill that goes through him at the contact. “Listen. Okay, so, I recently got into sleeping naked and I… well, I prefer it, so I was just wondering if I could?”

Sam blinks slowly. “What?” His brain won’t offer up anything else. He’s all out of intelligent thoughts. “Dean…” Sam finally manages and shakes his head. “I get that you’re more comfortable naked but -”

“God, you’re so lame. Fucking prude.”

And that has Sam switching gears. For some unknown reason.

“Okay, whatever. Just… don’t touch me with your nasty dick and we should be fine.”

“Hey, no body shaming,” Dean complains and then tugs his boxers down and off without warning. “Your turn.”

Sam barks out a laugh and hates how keenly aware he is of Dean’s cock even though he diligently keeps his eyes off of it. “Yeah, no. One naked brother is enough. My clothes are staying on. I do need to piss, though.”

“Same.”

It’s an awkward affair. Mostly because Dean makes a joke about Sam holding his dick and vice versa. Sam really doesn’t find it funny at all. It only makes Dean tease him more. By the time they make it back to the bed, Sam’s fuming.

“So you’re not gonna be the little spoon, huh?” Dean says as they curl up in bed. Sam’s on his back, stiff and still.

Sam pulls a face. “No one’s going to be the little spoon, dude. Just… fucking go to sleep already.”

“Jeez, Sam, lighten up,” Dean says, laying his head on Sam’s chest, legs tangling up in Sam’s.

“Is that your dick?” Sam asks tightly. Warmth is seeping through his jeans and there’s definitely a penis-shaped bulge touching him.

“Night, Sam,” Dean says sweetly.

* * *

When Sam wakes up, Dean’s humping him.

“Hey!” Sam says, shoving Dean’s shoulder. “Get up.” Panic is clawing at his throat and it’s not just because of Dean’s dick. _Sam’s_ aching cock has him desperate to get them up and moving, too.

“C’mon, Sammy, five more minutes.”

“No.” He hates how goddamn shrill he sounds but he’s gotta stop whatever the fuck is happening here.

Mercifully, Dean’s brain finally seems to be working because he stops with the thrusting. “Fuck, that was such a good dream -”

“I don’t wanna hear about it,” Sam says, cutting Dean off.

“Damn, who pissed in your cereal?”

Sam glowers and sits up, one of his hands landing on Dean’s naked thigh. “You did. Because you won’t stop being a fucking asshole.”

“That’s part of my charm.”

“I suppose that’s one possible conclusion. Can we get up now or what?”

Dean grins and Sam tenses. _Don’t trust that smile._

“You know, I just realized it’s been a bit since we showered.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

“It can wait,” Sam says. “We need to break the curse.”

“No, it definitely can’t wait, you’re fucking ripe, dude.”

_Can’t be that bad._

Sam tentatively sniffs himself and winces. Okay, so it’s a little bad. He blames it on the forced proximity. All the heat from Dean has him sweating more than usual. “Fine,” Sam says, resigned to his fate.

“Jeez, Sam, I’m suggesting we shower, not suck each other off, calm down,” Dean says and taps Sam’s knee. “Clothes off, I’m way ahead of you.”

_Ugh, great._

Sam shifts awkwardly, his dick twitching, and growls softly as he yanks his shirt over his head. “If you tell me to calm down one more time we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Easy, tiger. Gonna raise your blood pressure if you don’t manage that stress and anger,” Dean purrs and tweaks Sam’s exposed nipples playfully before sliding along Sam’s belly and that’s _really_ not the encouragement Sam’s dick needs.

“You know, I’m gonna start getting the wrong idea if you keep this up,” Sam snaps, and oh god, oh god - Dean seriously needs to stop.

“I’m teasing you,” Dean says but he doesn’t stop dragging his fingers along Sam’s over-heated flesh. It’s suggestive and amazing and Sam hates it.

“I’m gonna beat your ass,” Sam says tightly, flicking the button of his jeans open. He’s not sure if he imagines Dean’s tongue darting out between his lips, if it’s real, or some weird liminal space.

“Mmm, kinky.”

Sam grits his teeth and lifts his hips off the bed just long enough to slide his pants and underwear down and off.

“Holy fuck, Sammy, that’s a weapon, not a dick. What the fuck? No way could a woman ever get off with that thing. How the hell did you ever manage to get laid, huh?”

“Guys like it,” Sam says. It’s probably a mistake. He really should ignore Dean and not engage or encourage whatever the hell is happening with him - but Sam can’t seem to help himself.

Thankfully, mercifully, Dean’s silent and slack-jawed.

* * *

Almost immediately things go south again. Dean might not be talking Sam’s head off but he’s distracting Sam in other disturbing ways. Like how he’s incapable of looking away from Sam’s dick for more than a few seconds. Or how he keeps not-so-subtly rubbing his ass against Sam like a fucking dog in heat.

“Dean,” Sam says, frantic. “This is the curse. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s not real, okay? I really, really need you to pull it together. Don’t make me do this without you.”

He _can_ figure out how to break the curse without Dean’s help. He just doesn’t want to.

Maybe talking to Dean is a mistake because now Dean’s turning so they’re face to face, his hands trailing idly along Sam’s hips. “Not doing it without me, I’m right here,” Dean says.

“Little hard to believe you when you keep looking at my dick,” Sam huffs. His dick throbs under Dean’s gaze, the fucking traitor.

“What can I say, it’s like a car crash. Impossible for me to ignore,” Dean rasps.

“Right,” Sam grumbles and fumbles for the body wash.

“Oh, what ya doing with that? You gonna wash me, Sammy?” Dean asks, a finger dipping into Sam’s bellybutton.

“Fuck,” Sam hisses and continues his task, lathering up his hands before rubbing the soap onto Dean’s chest. “Yeah, I’m washing you. Against my better judgment but I don’t really have many options right now, do I?”

“Guess not,” Dean says.

Sam swallows thickly, nerves overtaking him as his hands continue to work over Dean’s body, dipping lower and lower. He doesn’t need to look at Dean’s cock to know it’s just as hard as his. He’s hyper aware of it no matter what precautions he takes, it seems. “Man, I can’t wait for this to be over. You’re gonna be so embarrassed.”

“What if I’m not?” Dean asks, so quiet Sam’s not entirely sure he heard him correctly. But then, louder, “what if I’m not bothered at all, huh? What then?”

“God, Dean…” Sam shakes his head. “What do you expect me to even say to that?”

“Nothing,” Dean says, shrugging.

Sam worries his lip between his teeth as he keeps washing his brother, until his entire front is taken care of except for some very _private_ bits. “Uh, you can do the rest -”

“Nuh-uh, you should at least get my back.”

Sam lets out a long-suffering sigh and obliges, stepping closer to Dean when Dean doesn’t offer Sam his back, entering the trap Dean has set up for him and slides right into his space, wrapping his arms around Dean to blindly wash him. When his hands trace the swell of Dean’s ass, Dean moans - and then he’s gripping Sam’s hips, keeping him there, _right there._

“Dean -”

“Cool it, Sam, you’re fine.”

“Uh, I don’t know -”

Dean squeezes Sam’s hips, fingers biting into his flesh. “Seriously, it’s fine, we’re fine.”

“We’re definitely not… all right, you’re washing your own dick.”

Dean snorts and keeps his eyes on Sam as he obeys, sliding his fingers over his cock with a soft groan. “Damn, that’s good.”

“Hey,” Sam says tightly. “Washing only, no jerking off. Got it?”

Dean pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“Yeah, I’m no fun, that’s fine. Someone’s gotta be the adult around here. Apparently, that’s me.”

When it’s Sam’s turn to get washed, Dean’s hands are… well, everything. It’s better than getting a blowjob, it’s better than a fuck, just having Dean’s hands on his naked flesh makes him want to come, and suddenly he understands why Dean had been so noisy. Apparently, it wasn’t just to piss Sam off. _Curse, it’s the curse._

He’s about to tell his brother to fuck off when Dean rubs his thumb over the tip of Sam’s cock and Sam’s mouth falls open. Sam should pull away, excruciating pain or no - but he doesn’t. He stands there, complicit and aching, and finds himself thrusting gently against Dean’s hand.

And then.

And then.

Dean fucking stops. The _bastard._

“Time to wash off, Sammy,” Dean says cheerfully.

Sam’s insides boil with lust and damn near unbridled anger. “Fuck you.”

* * *

Over the next several hours, all Sam can think about is getting revenge for Dean’s stunt in the bathroom. He’s not really sure _how_ , upstaging Dean seems like work and would also probably entail more incestuous bullshit which is odd if he’s being charitable and a bit sick if he’s being honest.

So Sam keeps stewing, refusing to give in to his desire to shut Dean up with less than moral methods. He’s also painfully, woefully inept at digging them out of the hole they’ve fallen into.

He keeps being less than useless well into the night. And he’d be continuing that journey of being a damn sentient log if it weren’t for the fact that Dean has decided he needs Sam’s attention again.

“Hey,” Dean says, poking Sam’s cheek with his forefinger. Sam can’t help but notice it’s _thick._ He already knew that about Dean, he’d see how big his fingers were when Dean drank or cleaned his guns or rubbed his face. But he’d never really considered them _interesting_ until this damn curse. He’d never really cataloged the parts of Dean that people might find _hot._ “I need to jerk off.”

Okay. _Okay, fuck._

Thoughts and images fly into his mind, unwanted but insistent. Dean’s agile fingers around his cock, bringing himself to orgasm. His mouth parted, noises Dean’s unable to hold back flowing out. What Dean might _say -_ Sam would be a fool to think Dean would make it easy on him in any meaningful capacity.

“What?” Sam says even though there is absolutely no mistaking what Dean’s asking for.

“I need…” Dean pauses and flicks Sam’s ear before putting his goddamn _mouth_ on it. “To jerk off. Which means you gotta be with me, little brother.”

“Oh my god, can you forget about your _stupid_ dick for once? It’s not going to kill you to abstain from -”

“Sam, no offense, but you’ve been saying that for days and I’m not a monk-freak like you, fucking myself is like - it’s like my own version of prayer and meditation, okay? I use it to reconnect with myself. I _need_ it, Sam,” Dean says, the words falling out too close to Sam’s face, too fucking intimate.

“Yeah, right,” Sam hisses. “This is all just some elaborate prank. As soon as I say yes, you’re never going to let me forget that I fell for such a load of crap.” Sam shakes his head, dislodging his brother. “ _Or_ the curse has fucked you up so bad you don’t know which way is up anymore.”

“Hey,” Dean says, shoving Sam’s shoulder. “My head is screwed on just fine, same as yours. I just like fucking myself, Sam. What can I say, I’m hot and I deserve it.”

Sam can retaliate. Dean’s left it wide open for a nice fat zinger but Sam _can’t._ For one thing, the confidence is, at least in part, a facade. Dean doesn’t think he deserves much of anything. It’s pretty fucking heartbreaking. Messing with that wound would be cruel. And Dean _is_ hot, that is inarguable at this point. So where does it leave them?

“Fine,” Sam grumbles. “But make it quick.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, Sammy. You’ve got a lot to learn about self-love. Quick isn’t fun. It’s plain old boring. Nah, you gotta be careful with this sort of thing. Make a whole night of it, really treat yourself. I’ll show ya how a real man does it.”

* * *

“You sure you don’t want headphones or earplugs?” Dean asks, licking his lips. He watches Sam carefully as they lay down on Dean’s bed. Dean’s naked already and flicks open the lid on his lube, in part due to lack of patience but it also feels like a bit of a challenge. Like he’s waiting to see how Sam will react, like he thinks Sam didn’t really mean it.

“Thought we already established I was fine.”

“Awesome.” Dean squeezes lube onto his fingers and spreads his meaty thighs wide, draping his left leg over Sam’s right and instead of wrapping his fingers around his cock, Dean starts playing with his hole.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, his voice thin. Strained. He’s thankful he’s wearing clothes but it won’t help much if his dick keeps throbbing and asking for attention.

So eager, so easy. So _stupid._

“When I said I like to fuck myself, I really meant it,” Dean husks and his breathing hitches when Dean’s forefinger breaches his hole. “Nothing crazy, don’t need it. Just fingers alone make me insane.”

For a while Dean’s quiet, save for the slick noises of his well-lubed fingers fucking his ass. Sam never anticipated that the lack of dialogue could be worse but it kind of is. He’s left with nothing but his lust. _Dean’s_ need. He’s left with nothing but Dean’s gaze, his eyes hitting Sam like lightning in a bottle. Quick, intense, unexpected. Dean’s stare penetrates deep, it exhumes Sam’s very soul, seeing every part, even the parts that Sam pretends isn’t there.

“I’m not like you. Haven’t fucked guys. I’ve _wanted_ to. It’s kinda surprising I haven’t, right? Bet getting fucked by a cock hits a little different than a few fingers -”

“Stop,” Sam growls, his eyes squeezing shut. “Keep it to yourself.”

“What fun would that be when you clearly like it?”

“Fuck you.” It’s a weak reply. His cock is full and happy. Sam’s fallen hard and fast.

“See, Sam, that’s exactly why you’re mad - you _wanna_ fuck me,” Dean says before going quiet again save for throaty moans as he works himself open to take _more more more_.

_Don’t engage, let it go._

At least for now, at least until they’re both thinking with a clear head. No curse in the way. Sam’s sure that when this waking nightmare is over, he’ll obsess about the deeper meaning behind every word and decision Dean made. But for now he should really just _not do a fucking thing_ -

“Sam,” Dean moans, three fingers buried in his ass. Dean isn’t asking Sam a question. Sam’s name is said because Dean _wants_ to say it. It’s said out of lust, out of need. _Like a lover._ “Sam, Sam, Sam. I want -” Dean cuts himself off, shaking his head. _Now_ Dean looks vulnerable. He’s exposing his softness for Sam and it mirrors the tangled mess swirling inside of Sam perfectly.

“What?” Sam prompts, touching Dean’s shoulders. His chest. “What do you want?”

“You know,” Dean says. “You know what I want - it’s you. I just - fuck, Sam.”

There’s no more wrestling, no hesitation. No room for angsting. Sam simply climbs on top of his brother and pins Dean to the bed, his heartbeat rabbit-quick with the knowledge that Dean’s at his mercy. Sam has the upper hand. Dean’s wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Flushed pink. _Pretty._

“I was gonna make you say it again. I was gonna make you say _more_ ,” Sam pants as he fumbles with his pants and pulls his heavy, leaking cock free. “But, on second thought… shutting you up sounds more appealing right now. Filling you up.”

“Damn, I’m not going anywhere, slow down -”

“Shh. That’s enough out of you,” Sam demands and shoves his cock into Dean’s mouth. He’s clothed for the most part, pants hanging just below his ass. _Idiotic,_ his brain supplies. He has to look ridiculous, the opposite of sexy but that's too damn bad. He needs Dean now.

He takes Dean’s mouth like it belongs to him, like he’s enjoyed it for years. Thrusting in deep, not giving Dean a chance to adjust or breathe. Truthfully, Sam _wants_ Dean to squirm and choke, he wants it to be uncomfortable, a challenge. It’s mean, it certainly isn’t _nice_ \- but it’s the truth and Sam’s okay with admitting it now.

Sam fucks Dean’s face until Dean’s drooling and sloppy, barely hanging on. Then he pulls out, grinning wide. A little feral. “Hey.”

“Hey, lunatic,” Dean wheezes. “The fuck was that?”

“A taste of what’s to come,” Sam murmurs and scoots down Dean’s chest. He keeps going until he has the perfect view of Dean’s cock, until it’s inches from Sam’s face. He kisses the weeping tip and moans.

“Take it,” Dean pleads, arching off the bed, closer to Sam. Trying to shove inside.

Sam smiles and pulls away. “Maybe later. I have something else in mind right now.”

“C’mon, Sam, it’s only fair to return the favor,” Dean pouts.

“I didn’t say no,” Sam reminds him as he pushes Dean’s thighs further apart and rubs his cock along Dean’s hole. “It’s your fault anyway. You were playing with your ass. Made me want it.”

“Christ, Sam. At least lemme see you,” Dean says even as he eagerly wraps his legs around Sam's hips, beckoning him closer.

“Later,” Sam promises and slides into Dean.

Time goes sideways, Sam has no idea how long he hovers with his cock half inside and the muscles in his arms and legs dancing as he attempts to grasp what has happened. Wet, tight heat around his cock. Dean scrabbling at Sam’s arms, whimpering. He’s saying something, maybe Sam’s name.

Nothing makes sense until Sam takes Dean's mouth with his. Then there’s a burst of color. Sam’s coming alive, he’s wide awake.

“Dean,” he gasps and slams home. “Stay close."

Dean’s crying, howling with each thrust and clings tighter to Sam. His hair is a tousled mess. “I’m here, I’m right here,” Dean breathes then bursts into laughter. “Fucking with your clothes on is a nice aesthetic, ‘cept now your pants are falling off, genius. Good job.”

“Shut up,” Sam grouses and sucks marks into Dean’s flesh, leaving ugly, brilliant bruises across Dean’s neck.

“Ah! Never, bitch.”

Sam hums and sinks into the hickeys blooming on Dean’s throat, squeezes as Dean searches for breath and gasps uselessly.

“You gonna be a good boy?” Sam purrs. He watches Dean closely. He’d never hurt Dean more than he could handle, not like this. Not on purpose.

Dean nods and starts clawing at Sam’s arms, putting on a show for him, playing up the desperation, the fear.

“So pretty when you can’t breathe,” Sam says, lessening his hold so Dean can inhale sharply. His pace slows, fucking into Dean lazily. He’s prepared to last all night if he has to.

“Damn, Sammy,” Dean gasps. “Didn’t know you were capable of that, holy shit dude.”

“Gonna come for me? Bet you’d look so sweet.”

“Yeah, god, so close -”

“Don’t make me wait too long.” Sam pulls on Dean’s hair unexpectedly, doesn’t even know if Dean will like it - thankfully, Dean does. He comes hard, beautifully, and Sam swallows up Dean’s cries with his mouth.

“Don’t look so smugly satisfied, I’m not finished with you,” Dean says, clenching his hole rhythmically around Sam.

Dean takes Sam by surprise, rolls them so Dean’s on top. He bites his lip, lowers onto Sam’s cock with a long steady glide, and starts riding him.

For the moment, Sam’s not bothered by the curse. He doesn’t care how long it might last or how the hell they’re going to break it. Being here with Dean _like this_ is how it should have been all along.


End file.
